"W-What do you mean? Where are they?"
"About two blocks away from Baker Street. They were attacked by the killer, send for paramedics as well."
He heard Greg mutter, "Aw...shit...I'm on my way."
Just like that he hung up. Mycroft rested his phone down on the table and rested his face onto his hands. This is the second time he's done this, he's tried to stop somebody from hurting his brother, both times he failed and both times his brother's life was in danger. Those gun shots were what worried him beyond belief, it could have been anybody that got hit, Sherlock could have gotten shot, or they both could have, since there were two. Sebastian was very dangerous, just as dangerous as his employer, and quite possibly his lover, what with the way he was so protective of him. Sebastian was there, he was the sniper that was focused on John. He placed him there especially, his job was to "burn the heart out of Sherlock", and John Watson was his heart. Mycroft warned him, he told him caring wasn't an advantage, but because he spent so long trying to force Sherlock to be like him, Sherlock wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He wasn't the little kid with the over-sized dressing gown and the big mop of curls and that bright smile that could make anybody's day. He was the adult whose warm heart turned into ice because of the years he spent being taunted, mocked, bullied, and ignored, and of trying to be like his older brother. Now he could possibly be dead for all Mycroft knew, and he would have to live with that forever.
~~~~~~~~~~
John and Sebastian shot their guns at the same time. Sherlock was careful to move out of the way, but he was still scared out of his mind. John was a crack-shot and so his aim was more precise, but Sebastian was a sniper and so they both just as good with a gun. John's bullet hit Sebastian first, it went straight into his chest, he collapsed to the floor, dropping the pistol on the way down. John was luckier than Sebastian. He grabbed his shoulder in pain and then fell to his knees, and then finally hit the floor, also dropping his weapon.
"JOHN!" Sherlock yelled as he ran over to him. He saw John's blood pooling around his body, there was so much of it.
"Sherlock don't-"
He held his head as that rang through his head. He felt a sharp pain for a moment before it faded. He shook his head and focused back on John who was holding his bloody shoulder and trying his best to stay awake.
"He's my friend...please...he's my friend...let me through..."
That's John's voice. He remembered hearing him say that...
"S-Sherlock..."
Sherlock bent down and propped John up so that he was in his arms, he placed his gloved hand on top of John's to stop the bleeding. As he was staring into John's eyes, he saw tears forming in them.
"This is what people do right? Leave a note?"
"Leave a note when?"
Sherlock took his hand off of the other's for a moment to stroke his cheek.
"Please, don't die John, not my John, you can't die."
John just chuckled.
"I'm not sure if I can keep that promise, Sherlock."
Sherlock felt tears coming to his own eyes as he stroked the soft cheek, he saw that he got a bit of blood on it. He saw John's hand that wasn't on his wound slowly and shakily reach up to touch his wrist and that triggered something in Sherlock because he immediately felt extreme pain and placed a hand on his head as he tried to make it go away.
"NO!"
Sherlock looked down at the body that was laying before him, his brains were blown out , as he pulled out his gun and did the deed as he was shaking hands with him. Sherlock was unnerved by the sudden action and started breathing quickly. He looked up at the sky, the sky was grey. It looked like it might rain soon, but that doesn't matter. What mattered was that his friends were safe. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and John. John is all that mattered, he would give his life up to protect him, and it seems like that was the only option right now. Wiping his mouth he pulled out his phone for his last call. It was John who answered.
"Sherlock are you okay?" He was frantic, worried, not sure about what was to come next. Sherlock couldn't handle this.
"Turn around and walk back the way you came." He had to do this, John Watson was in danger.
"No, I'm coming in."
He was always stubborn.
"Just. Do as I ask. Please."
His voice was choking with tears.
He saw John looking all around for his friend.
"Where?"
"Stop there."
John sounded like he was getting angry. Sherlock wasn't surprised, it was how he always dealt with fear.
"Sherlock."
"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."
John looked up and saw him standing there, talking to him on the phone. Sherlock could hear his exasperated breath, like he lost it for a moment before thinking about what to say next.
"Oh god."
Sherlock felt the tears making their way down his cheeks.
"I-I-I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."
"What's going on?"
"An apology. It's all true."
He could see his friend's heart breaking all at once and he couldn't stand it.
"What?"
"Everything they said about me. I'm a fake."
How it hurt to see John receive that news. But it had to be done. It had to.
"Sherlock-"
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact , tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own."
All he wants is John to stop believing in him. To stop trusting him so he could make this easier.
"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met-the first time we met-you knew all about my sister, right?"
"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's all just a magic trick."
John wasn't believing it. Sherlock couldn't believe that this was the first time he actually cursed John's loyalty to him. Why can't see what's happening? Why does he still chose to trust him?
"No. Alright, stop it now."
He started to move closer but Sherlock stopped him by holding out his hand, and seeing that John was doing the same.
"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."
"Alright." John sighed in resignation. He was starting to see that he couldn't stop this now. He had to watch his friend commit suicide. He had to watch him die.
"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" His voice is beginning to crack.
"Do what?"
"This phone call, it's...it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."
John's voice was hesitant.
"Leave a note when?"
Through the heavy tears, Sherlock forced out, "Goodbye, John."
The last thing he could heard on the phone was, "No. Don't-"
Then he remembered jumping off, there was a...cushion of some sort that he had to land on, but something went wrong and he remembered feeling a lot of pain. He heard John's voice in the distance shouting, "Let me through. He's my friend..." He felt his fingers wrap around his wrist for a brief moment, but that was just about it. Everything went black.
Now he sees John, in different outfits in different places, all of them saying his name softly, "Sherlock..."
He sees Lestrade, he sees Molly in the morgue, and he sees Mycroft. They're all saying his name and he recognizes them, vaguely, but he has enough to remember.
He opened his eyes and started breathing heavily in and out and looked down at John, who was calling his name softly, the wound on his shoulder giving him blood loss and a lot of it.
"S-Sherlock..."
"I remember you. You're John Watson...my John..."
John's pale lips curled into a smile as his free hand rose up to touch Sherlock's. He couldn't help it, he started crying, no, sobbing at the touch.
"You're my John Watson, you're my everything and I remember you. Please don't die, John, I can't be Sherlock Holmes without John Watson, please! You're my blogger, you're my doctor, you're my friend! I love you John, remember that? Remember when you said you loved me?! You can't say something like that and die! John Watson isn't supposed to die, we're supposed to be together until the end! I can't lose you now when I remember you again! PLEASE DON'T DIE!"
Just then, Sherlock could hear the faint blare of the sirens and knew that Greg was coming to get them. John's eyes were half-lidded and he needed to get to a hospital soon or he wouldn't...No. He WILL make it.
"You hear that, John?" He squeezed his hand that felt so limp.
"That's Lestrade, he's coming to get us, he's going to save you. Please hang on, John...if you die, I'll have nobody left...don't leave me alone...please I can't be alone again."
John's lips spread apart as he started speaking, his lips were quivering.
"Y-you're m-my S-S-Sherl..."
"Shhh, don't talk...there will be plenty of time for that later, just not now."
John's head slowly started shaking, as if he was disagreeing.
"N-no..."
"Yes, John, you're going to live! You promised me you won't abandon me!"
"I-I-I...l-l-love...y-y-you..."
Sherlock's hand gripped tightly around John's wrist, staining it with blood. Sherlock wanted to be strong, but he wasn't. He won't be able to live without his John.
"If you really loved me you would stay alive!"
The sirens got louder and Sherlock looked back to see that there were at least five police cars, along with an ambulance parked in the middle of the street. In the first car, Lestrade and Sally came out with guns in their hand, and then the other cops followed.
"FAN OUT, MAKE SURE THE KILLER DIDN'T GET AWAY!" Greg shouted.
"LESTRADE!" Sherlock called out. Greg looked over and saw him holding a bloody, and dangerously wounded Watson in his arms. The doctor was very pale and was barely breathing. Sherlock was bawling his eyes out and grasping to him for dear life.
"Please help him!"
"GET THE PARAMEDICS, NOW!"
He was shook but the pain in Sherlock's eyes brought him back on track. In no time the paramedics came wheeling out a gurney for John. They picked him up as gently as they could and laid him out on it. The female was pressing down on his wound so that he wouldn't lose anymore blood and holding an oxygen mask on his face. Greg knelt down to face Sherlock and said, "He's going to be okay, he's going to be fine..."
"I want to go with him!"
"You can't ride in the ambulance with him because of the severity of the wound. I'll drive you there right now."
Realizing that Sherlock was too distraught to stand, he put the gun away and helped him to his feet.
"Sally, you're in charge while I take him to the hospital."
"But sir!"
"DON'T ARGUE WITH ME!"
She didn't speak but instead gave a nod before rushing off with the other officers. Supporting Sherlock, Greg opened the passenger door and slowly sat him down.
"That's it...take it easy..."
"John..." Sherlock whimpered.
"I know, Sherlock...I know."
He dashed over to the driver's side and seated himself and started the car. In his head, he was silently praying that John made it there on time and that nothing happened along the way. He would hate to see Sherlock's reaction.
"Alright, off we go..."